


But If I Were to Go to Heaven

by LaMepriseFangirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Episode: s09e23 Do You Believe in Miracles?, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-06
Updated: 2014-10-06
Packaged: 2018-02-20 02:27:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2411609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaMepriseFangirl/pseuds/LaMepriseFangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some of Sam's thoughts after Metatron kills Dean, written in the first person.</p>
            </blockquote>





	But If I Were to Go to Heaven

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't beta this; I just wrote and this is what came out. I doubt I got Sam's voice down.
> 
> Beginning dialogue is from 9x23, as you will most likely recognize.

"Sam, hold up, hold up."

I obey because I can't find it within me to deny him anything.

"I got to say something to you," Dean says as I prop him up on the nearest convenient surface.

"What?"

He puts his hand on my cheek.

"I'm proud of us."

I fucking hate how _that's_ how I know he's not going to make it.

There's not even time to respond before he slumps forward, eyes shut.

"No, no. Hey, hey, hey, hey, wake up, buddy. Hey. Dean." No response. "Dean!"

He's gone. Again.

I'm alone; nothing can stop me from sobbing into his shoulder until his body starts to cool. Dean would want me to clear out before Metatron comes back; I wouldn't care all that much if he crept up and stabbed me in the back as I cried.

Because when I see my brother die, everything stops mattering. The whole world loses meaning. Dean's like breathing to me--if you can't breathe, you're not worrying about food or water.

I finally pull myself together a little. I have to bring him home. I have to drive his corpse home.

The prospect of Dean's body in the passenger seat is bad enough without having already done it six years ago. I can barely see as I bring his body to the car, can't blink all the tears away fast enough. None of the homeless people I threatened earlier show their face.

I find a blanket to put on the seat--Dean hates bloodstains on the upholstery--and another to put over him after I sit him in the car. Finally I get behind the steering wheel and shut the door. Except the keys are in Dean's pocket. I have to slide over and go through my dead brother's pockets.

I have to reach over to his right pocket to find them. So close to him, smelling the gore, smelling Dean, seeing his bruised, blood-crusted face, I lose it again. Laying my head on his shoulder, still damp with tears from before, angry questions run through my mind. _Why did you have to face him alone, Dean? Why do you have to protect me? Why can't you let me risk laying down my life for a cause?_

My head hurts. Aside from Dean knocking me out earlier, a headache from dehydration has set in.

But finally I peel myself away, get the keys in the ignition. I start the car and I'm brought back about 2, 3 years this time. Dean and Cas disappeared after they killed Dick Roman, Kevin was kidnapped, and my reaction was to get into the car and drive at about a hundred miles per hour hoping for a head-on collision.

Every time Dean dies I hope to the God that isn't there that it's the last time I'll have to go through this. I keep thinking I won't be able to deal with it next time, that one day Dean is going to die and I'm just going to lie down next to him and put a bullet in my brain. Or get in the car and drive off a bridge.

But if I were to go to Heaven, by some miracle, and see Dean, he would ask what happened.

How do I tell Dean that I took the easy way out? How do I tell Dean I made an executive decision for us to retire?

I can imagine it. He might say it outright that I'm a coward and that I'm needed. But seeing his face would be worse. He'd be disappointed in me. Any pride he had in me would be gone.

Dean wouldn't be proud of _us_ anymore.


End file.
